Calculated Revenge

Her daughter’s lower lip quivered. “But Mommy, he didn’t have mean eyes. More like sad. And he went away as soon as the bell rang and we had to go inside.”

“What did the man look like?” The agent’s palm slapped the desktop.

Laney fried him with a glare. “You are not interrogating a criminal.”

“All right. Okay.” He lifted his hands and settled back in his chair. “Briana,” he gritted between a wooden smile, “would you kindly describe this person to me?”

The little girl shrugged. “He had a suit on, but not the same color as yours. His hair was dark, except for white spots here.” She motioned toward her temples. “And the metal pole on the fence came to here on him.” She sawed her hand back and forth across her upper abdomen.

“Very good, honey.” Laney squeezed her daughter’s arm, then looked at Burns. “The stabilizing pole is about halfway up the fence. That would make our man less than average height—five foot eight or so.”

The man grunted. “Good description, young lady. Now would you mind going with one of my agents while I talk to your mom for a little while?”

Laney shook her head. “I won’t send her with someone she doesn’t know. I want my friend Ellen to be with them.”

Burns hissed out a breath. “Make it happen, but my guy will be in charge. Unless you think one of my agents is the perp.” His sarcasm was sharp enough to scrape paint.

He retrieved a radio from his belt while Laney went to the office door and peered out. The outer area teemed with people, and Miss Aggie was busy at a swamped desk. Some of those hanging around were bus drivers. Laney glanced at the wall clock. School was overdue to be dismissed. On the other side of the area, a tall, dark-haired man waved to her, flashing a big smile. It was Pierce Mayfield, driver of the small city bus that transported several in-town children to and from school. Laney answered with a flutter of the fingers.

Pierce had been flirting with her all year and even asked her out a couple of times. So far she’d turned him down. Not that Pierce wasn’t nice. He was even pretty good-looking. His eyebrows of slightly different heights and vaguely crooked nose gave him an appealingly interesting face. He simply wasn’t a certain school principal who had already captured her attention. Of course, she might do well to give up that hopeless quest and give Pierce a chance. Ellen sure thought so. She’d been trying to get them together all year. And Laney was all for finding a good husband. Briana deserved the daddy she kept praying for…but first, her precious little girl needed to be safe.

A welcome figure stepped into the reception area. Now she didn’t have to ask Miss Aggie to call over the intercom.

“Ellen!” Laney motioned her friend over.

“Oh, girl!” Ellen swept her into big arms, and her lavender scent enveloped Laney.

For a brief instant, she allowed herself to slump into the comfort. Then she pulled away. “Can you go with this agent,” she pointed to the big fellow in a sport coat who’d come up behind Ellen, “and look after Briana?”

“Anything.” Ellen’s brown eyes poured warm honey over Laney. “We’ll hang out in my classroom.”

“Thanks. You’re the best.” Laney squeezed her friend’s hand and called for Briana. “You remember what I told you about minding anyone watching out for you.”

“I will, Mama.”

The little girl skipped off, holding Ellen’s hand and trailed by Hulk Hogan’s clone with a buzz cut.

Laney closed the office door and returned to her hot seat in front of Agent Burns.

The agent studied her with flat eyes. “What do you know about Ryder?”

“What’s that got to do with this situation?”

Burns stared at her like a hawk at a mouse.

Laney shifted in her seat and crossed her legs. “He’s a terrific school principal.”

“That’s it?”

“I’ve only been here one school term. It’s not like we hang out socially.” Not that she wouldn’t like to, but that was none of Burns’s business.

The agent twirled a paper clip between his thumb and forefinger. “Don’t place any confidence in him to figure this out for you. Leave that to the professionals.”

Laney blinked at him. What in the world was he getting at?

A knock sounded at the door.

“Come!” Burns called.

A short man walked in carrying a box about the size of a microwave oven. Laney recognized the strap of Grace’s backpack sticking out the top inside a clear plastic bag.

“This is Agent Wallace,” Burns said. “One of our Evidence Recovery Technicians. I need you to take a look at the items from your sister’s backpack and tell us if you notice anything out of place or missing.”

“O-okay,” Laney quavered. Nausea churned her insides.

Wallace began taking bagged and tagged items out of the box and laying them carefully on any available surface. First, the empty pack itself. Then papers and notebooks and pencils and erasers, a ruler, an assortment of hair pins, a shriveled and barely recognizable candy bag, a smashed calculator and several school texts and workbooks.

“That’s it?” Burns grated.

“All she wrote,” Wallace confirmed.

“I see nothing out of place.” Laney walked around and forced herself to examine every object. “Even the candy is her favorite—Reese’s Pieces.” A lump crowded into her throat and tears stung her eyes. Oh, Gracie! She swallowed the lump and took a deep breath. “What’s this dark stuff staining the corner of the bag and this book? It’s not—” She didn’t finish the statement, as her brain registered the truth without needing to hear from the technician.

Her sister’s lifeblood.

Her gut heaved, and she hurried from the room. No one tried to stop her. She dodged between people in the crowded reception area. Her foot rammed something hard, and she stumbled. Righting herself, she looked down to see heavy, brown work boots. Must be steel-toed. Then she looked up into the scowling face of the custodian, Richard Hodge. His glower chilled her heated rush.

“Pardon me,” she murmured.

The man sneered and turned away.

Laney stared at his stiff, broad back. Why did the custodian dislike her? She shook her head and moved on, grief surging behind her eyes. A headache began to throb. She needed to get somewhere alone. Just for a few minutes.

She reached the exit, but a hand closed around her arm and turned her.

“Pierce. Hi. I can’t talk right now. I’m going—”

“Wherever it is, consider me your escort.” His concerned brown gaze drew a trickle from a corner of her eye. “Hey!” His thumb wiped at the tear.

She ducked her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t think you can go with me to the restroom.” She escaped out the door of the office.

In the hallway, students were rushing around, getting ready to head for home. Locker doors rattled, and juvenile voices yelled greetings and banter. Familiar sounds. Comforting sounds. Even the threat of a nameless stalker couldn’t douse the kids’ spirits on a fine day this close to summer break. Laney moved quickly between them, forcing herself to bestow smiles.

Fellow staff members called encouragement like, “We’re with you, Laney,” and shot her thumbs-up. But she read from their eyes that they didn’t know how to guarantee a good outcome any more than she did. Their sense of safety had been violated along with hers. At last she reached the ladies’ room and scurried past people to the last stall. She darted inside, closed the door, and leaned her aching head against the cool metal.

Oh, God, let this be a dream.

But it wasn’t, and she couldn’t turn back today’s clock any more than she could have turned it back eighteen years ago and made a different choice on that awful day.